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Hakim Fuhad Mansaray Poem
Deceit is a silent killer
Yet so many wear it well
They master the art of pretending
And call the mask a shield.
Like her
She crowned me with tender lies
Draped in robes of sweet illusion
And I, the fool, saw no disguise.
I was blind
To the poison in her touch
Too drunk on the way she smiled
Too far gone to feel the clutch.
I mistook the trap for tenderness
The dagger for a kiss
Wrapped in warmth that withered me
And still, I called it bliss.
Little did I know
I was held by hands that planned my fall
In the arms of lovely hate
Until I lost it all.
Copyright © Hakim Fuhad Mansaray | Year Posted 2025
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Hakim Fuhad Mansaray Poem
I left with a bag of dreams
and a heart full of hope.
The roads were wide
but none felt like home.
I spoke in borrowed voices
slept under unfamiliar skies.
Smiled through winters
that never thawed my bones.
But something kept pulling
a voice, a scent, a song.
A name I once answered to
still waiting where I belong.
Now I return, not empty
but carrying what I’ve become.
Not to start again
but to finally come home.
Copyright © Hakim Fuhad Mansaray | Year Posted 2025
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Hakim Fuhad Mansaray Poem
A child still waits where rivers dry
his ribs a map of silent screams
his eyes hold more than the pain of hunger
they hold the death of simple dreams.
We preach of change, yet waste our crumbs
we build our wealth on others’ pain
forgetting food is more than meal
it is the right to live again.
If every hand could lift one bowl
if every heart could feel this cry
then hunger would become a tale
not truth beneath an empty sky.
So feed the world, not just with bread
but with compassion’s endless fire
for hunger ends the day we choose
to make our care the world’s desire.
Copyright © Hakim Fuhad Mansaray | Year Posted 2025
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Hakim Fuhad Mansaray Poem
I know you’re hurting
I know you're completely lost
But just this once
Let love lead the course.
Let it lead, gentle as light
Mending the broken bridges
Guiding you gently home
Back to where you’ve always belonged.
Love has its simple ways
It thrives in the dark
Plants a candle in your chest
And teaches the heart to trust again.
So let it reach you.
Let it rewrite the ending.
Even after all this time
Love still knows your name.
Copyright © Hakim Fuhad Mansaray | Year Posted 2025
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Hakim Fuhad Mansaray Poem
Night drapes her shawl across the sky
hums the world to sleep.
She hides our sins beneath her stars
and guards the wounds we keep.
Her silence breathes on weary souls
and paints our fears in gray.
Night asks no questions of our pain
she simply holds the sway.
Let her cradle every ache
and heal what light forgot.
In her arms we find the peace
the day could never brought.
Copyright © Hakim Fuhad Mansaray | Year Posted 2025
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Hakim Fuhad Mansaray Poem
if I could trace back
to that period
before it all started
some hundreds shameful years ago
when, under thatch great men
with courageous minds were made
Days,
when we aim neither
for fancy houses
nor folding bridges
true peace was what we preach
Then,
our egos yearn for more
we set to conquer civilization
our brethren we exchanged
for soap, gunpowder and tobacco
After we made them great
on their intelligence they heap praise
that their so-called industrialization
our labour they exploited
what they'll never mention
They fooled us
to believe that
we can catch up with them
invisible ladders they built
which we have to climb
to meet them on the top
Slowly,
we poisoned ourselves
with their westernization
embracing all those illogical concepts
shaky as a kid's first steps
Then,
came our realization
of how foolish
we had been
Gladly,
they left
knowing they will
always come back
for they know our minds
have embraced their every thoughts
Years passed,
radically they came back
this time with new faces
of remorse with impunity
to suck the marrow from those bones
Foolishly again
we allowed them
to confiscate our brains
this time not with chains or canes
but with thoughts of doubt
Now here we are
crippling and dripping
of sweats that would have been theirs
instead of mending holes in our thatches
we fought for their badges
But,
what if we learn to breathe under water?
what if our chiefs can lead better?
what if they need us morethan
we need them?
where are those ideas of Pan-Africanism?
where are those men
who fought with swords and words?
Let's bring back those days
..............BUT LAMENTATIONS.
Originally posted on: https://hfoday.wordpress.com/2022/04/25/this-isnt-poetry/
https://hfoday.wordpress.com/2022/04/25/this-isnt-poetry/
Copyright © Hakim Fuhad Mansaray | Year Posted 2022
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Hakim Fuhad Mansaray Poem
Greatness was his to inherit
Breaking free from shells of gold
Soaring on wings of diamond so bold
Across the vast and rich lands of Mali.
Well-versed in the culture of his motherland
A gem in trade, a leader in heart
Mansa Musa, a beacon of strength
Guiding Mali to heights untold.
From a young age, like the morning sun
He was ready to rule with grace and wisdom
A king born to lead, to inspire
Musa’s legacy, a story that defies time.
The roads from Cairo to Mecca know a man better
Of wealth and influence, unmatched and grand
Like Freetown’s view from Mount Auroel
His gold and glory will forever be told.
A kind-hearted king, generous and wise
Investing in making people better
Offering food, gold, and shelter
His story will forever grace the ages.
Copyright © Hakim Fuhad Mansaray | Year Posted 2024
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Hakim Fuhad Mansaray Poem
Piles of garbage; sounds of carnage they motion
Blurry images of malnourished children
Struggling for breath and bread
They evince; the struggles as we grow
-of how we ourselves are adversaries to our improvement, a hated compliment;
Of our lust for not the future but the moment
In bold they write
headlines with demeaning adjectives
that best describe our tribe - negros
A continent taken as just a nation
With a bunch of foolish souls
With primeval irrationality, flagrant corrupt officials:
Followers of a God that is partial.
What they will never show
Is the hope and courage dancing
In those malaria eyes
The trueness in our loose ties
They won't write,
Stories of how our crudeness
Made them their goodness
Of us being their reservoir
A training ground for their geniuses —
Perfect confirmation of their guises.
Will they ever have those eyes?
Those that see us as civilized humans
Minding our own business.
Copyright © Hakim Fuhad Mansaray | Year Posted 2022
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Hakim Fuhad Mansaray Poem
The heart will beat
to a rhythm blood can’t read
skipping sacred moments
bearing scars of battles past.
If love comes for blood
every kindness hides a snare
the gentle touch a leech
that takes far more than it gives.
Still, we will call it love
for it laughs at our laughter
weaves hope through our silence
clings to compliments like a starving child.
If love comes for blood
its mask is flawless and warm
for it dwells in our feelings
yet the heart remains blameless.
Copyright © Hakim Fuhad Mansaray | Year Posted 2025
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Hakim Fuhad Mansaray Poem
In my loneliness, I lie in my bed
hopelessly listening to the chirping of crickets
The consoling breeze blowing from the cracks of my window
whistling tunes that re-echo from my bamboo bed
sending every hanging object to a dancing practice session
thatch reacting to every string in a recession
The intermittent cry of lonely owls
adds base to the consoling rhapsodies
Sounds that also remind villagers
About the witches taking off
To their fate-deciding kingdoms
Kingdom where grown up and deceased share the same bench
cooking infants' body parts
humming songs of destruction
A sudden cry of a baby
will be hushed by swearing from an angry parents, a witch patent.
At least, they believe
So others are awake, relieved I felt
The breeze blows and steals the light from my kerosene lamp
A precious possession especially
in wet seasons, when the moon hoards its brightness
Aided by angry clouds that are ready to pour out their pains on the earth
I closed my eyes tighter
Seeing billions of black and white shadows
When the cock crows
My pains and fears vanish
It is day break I thought
to later realize it is still dark
Stories of the last night cock's crow
Makes the headlines in all
riverside petty talk, adults discussions
Redemption will be sought from liars, the eyes of the gods
With just a few cowries they throw
on dirt-ridden floor mats
They calculate a non mathematical problem with addition,
A mystery on how they arrive at a result
With confidence, they will say
'the witch kingdom needs a sacrifice,
an infant will die suddenly'
The parents of the crying baby
Will start relating the story
Insults will be aimed at people
Barrens, poor childless older fellows will be the target
Insults will indirected to these people
If by chance the child dies
The eyes of the gods will be exalted
The barrens, poor old fellows will be confronted, disgraced
even sent on exile, to "evil" forests
At dusk
My fear crawls in
Fear of loliness
Fear of sleeplessness
Fear of the dark
Dark village night.
Copyright © Hakim Fuhad Mansaray | Year Posted 2022
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